Am I the Enemy: Oneshots for RLW, Нкн!
by OpD353RT5TORM
Summary: Just a collection of stuff for my main fic, Rangers Lead the Way, Никто, кроме нас! Might not be updated for a while. Wait until the main fic is done. Until then, enjoy the Christmas special. ONLY READ IF YOU HAVE READ RLW!


**All right so because Christmas I'm starting the official **_**Rangers Lead the Way, Никто, кроме нас! **_**Collection of AUs and oneshots. This will probably be the only part of it until the actual original fanfiction is over, so I apologize. When it's done, though, you can find all of the fun here.**

**If you come across this and haven't read RLW yet, go read it. You won't get a single thing if not.**

**I'm going to warn you that each part of this is separate, so don't be confused by the conflicting ships.**

**Anyway, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, whatever floats your boat. I'm tolerant like that. Unless you're from the Westboro Baptist "Church," in that case, go to hell kindly.**

**This will be AU-ish so watch your six.**

* * *

><p><em>You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch<em>

_December 24_

_Delta Force_

_The Strip, Las Vegas_

Team Metal had earned their leave for Christmas. Sandman and Truck intended on visiting their families, but before that they decided to spend some time in Vegas. This was mainly because Jenna insisted, having lived there for some time.

They booked two hotel rooms – One for Sandman, Grinch, and Truck, and the other for Frost and Jenna. The implications were not lost to Frost. On the other hand, Grinch thought it would be funny to set it up that way, knowing that Jenna had a huge crush on Frost. Being the dense guy he was, though, he had no idea. Grinch did, and decided he'd do everything in his power to get those two together.

They walked down the hallway, out-of-place in their Multicam ACUs. Sandman's eyes darted nervously back and forth, it was kind of a habit of his when in close quarters like this.

Back at the check-in desk, they'd run into a few complications. Hotel staff apparently had an issue with the service pistols being carried by the Delta operators.

"Come on, no open carry!? I thought that was legal here! Give us a break, buddy! We saved your asses from the Russians!" Grinch complained to one of the security guards.

"Rules are rules," the man simply replied.

Sandman stepped up.

"Listen, we're from Special Forces. We're much more capable and deadly than your sorry mall-ninja ass. My friend here could take out the entire security staff here armed with a .22. I don't mean to cause any trouble, but I highly suggest you let it slide," he growled.

"Thanks, boss," Truck thanked as they approached their rooms. "I don't feel safe without my Glock, and you know it."

Jenna repeatedly attempted to insert her key card but kept on failing.

"Come on, just work! Please! You're making me look like an idiot!"

Frost sighed and plucked the card from her hand. He promptly managed to get it to open.

"You had it backwards," he muttered, holding the door open. "Dumbshit."

"You all get settled in, we're going out tonight," Sandman ordered. "We're gonna have ourselves some fun."

Grinch chuckled a bit as he plopped down in a chair and messed with his phone.

"What's so funny?" Truck asked suspiciously.

"Nothin'. Just connecting to the WiFi. By the way, we got a trolley full of my gear headed up here, just open the door for 'em."

"Why'd you bring so much?"

"You'll see."

* * *

><p>Frost waited impatiently for Jenna to get out of the bathroom. He had to piss really badly but it would be rude to intrude on her, plus…<p>

His face turned red at the thought.

He was dressed in attire which wouldn't imply that he was a veteran. Unlike the other guys, he didn't wear any tactical clothing, or shirts with Second Amendment slogans or anything of the sort. Nothing implying service at all. Instead, he wore garb typical of a scene kid. Vans, skinny jeans, a hoodie. Something he got plenty of grief for.

Jenna emerged from the bathroom wearing something unexpected.

She donned shorts much shorter than she was comfortable with, a tube top (which she swore she'd never wear), and a jacket she'd thrown over in an attempt to cover up.

_What the hell happened to my clothes? _she thought in a panic earlier when changing.

She had no idea that Grinch stole all of it except for the outfit she was wearing.

"Damn, Hook. I had no idea you would dress like that… to be honest I was hoping you'd look kinda like me," Frost commented, trying not to think about how cute she looked in much more revealing clothing. He was accustomed to either military camo or the usual graphic and band tees she usually had.

"S-sorry!" Jenna apologized in embarrassment.

"I suppose we should go now," Frost suggested, throwing a small envelope into his backpack and opening the door.

The five of them walked down the streets of the Las Vegas strip, taking in the lights and the fancy scenery.

Frost could see his breath condense in the air.

"Heh, it's cold enough for _frost _to form, ain't it?" Truck chuckled.

"Damn! I thought this was Vegas! It's cold, I thought it would be hot like the 'Stan!" Grinch snapped.

"Well, it is absolutely burning… during the summer," Jenna replied, herself shivering. "In th-the winter, though, it's, uh, f-freezing I g-guess."

Grinch grinned to himself before "accidentally" stumbling and bumping Jenna into Frost. She almost fell down, so Frost caught her before she actually began her descent to the pavement.

"Watch yourself, Grinch! You all right?" he asked.

"Y-yeah! Thanks," Jenna nodded. "Wow, you're warm. It's awfully cold out here, you wouldn't mind if-"

Frost rolled his eyes and brought her closer. Jenna blushed heavily at the action.

"Don't take it the wrong way, dumbshit. We don't need you catching a cold now, do we?" he grumbled, sticking a cigarette in his mouth, lighting it, and taking a puff.

Grinch rubbed his hands evilly while Sandman looked at him and shook his head.

"You look so out of place here, you and your stupid white hair," Jenna giggled.

Frost gave her a scowl. Wasn't his fault his hair happened to be _really _blond. he wished everyone would stop giving him crap about it.

"Shut up! I could say the same for you and your inappropriately short shorts!" Frost retorted. "Idiot, why would you wear something like that in the cold? I thought you knew it was chilly!"

They entered a building, which was of course considerably warmer.

"All right, we're either gonna make a fortune or get broke tonight, but we're gonna have some serious fucking fun doing it, hooah!?" Sandman cheered.

"Drinks on me!" Grinch added. "Hook?"

"Sorry, sir, but it's a lot stricter here. I won't get away with it. I mean, I look, like, sixteen!"

They headed to the casino area to get started. It was going to be a good use of tax money.

* * *

><p>Sandman, Truck, Grinch, Frost, and Hook all hit the tables. Grinch was actually renowned for being a damn good card player. Jenna split off for a bit to try roulette, something she could actually do. She was absolute shit at anything else.<p>

She couldn't help but be bothered by the catcalls she was getting, though. A lot of things men were calling her were kind of offensive, too.

One man in particular wouldn't leave her alone and kept making advances on her.

"Hey babe, I know you're alone. Drink? On me?"

"No thanks, I'm actually underage."

"All right, maybe underage for a drink. But I know you're not underage for _that._"

Jenna sighed. Not this crap again.

"How about you and me go to my room, huh?"

The man grabbed her wrist and began to pull her away.

_Oh hell no._

Jenna released herself from the grip expertly, pushed the man away, and got into a fighting stance like she always did. She was, of course, a great brawler and could definitely handle herself.

"All right, douchebag, that's as far as you're going," she declared.

Her opponent smiled and took out a small knife.

Jenna's eyes widened. She could handle larger blades but people with smaller ones were too fast for her to handle.

"All right, you can put that down," she said, raising her hands and walking backwards.

"Come with me then."

"No way!"

"Come on, you know you want to! Look at yourself, your clothes! You're asking for it, bitch!"

Frost reached into his backpack.

The man rushed Jenna but didn't get far before falling to the floor and flailing around.

Frost stood above the figure with a Taser in his hand.

"Dumbass," he spat.

Jenna resisted the urge to run up and hug him.

"F-Frost! Thank you so much! You saved me there!"

"Yeah, well watch out next time. Stop being so reckless, you dumbshit."

"Okay, Frost. I'm sorry."

"You know, you can call me Derek. I have a name. Let's get outta here."

* * *

><p>Team Metal sat in their booth at the restaurant, just having pigged out.<p>

"That was so bad for my figure," Jenna muttered.

"Don't worry. I never thought that Truck was capable of demolishing a steak that fast," Grinch reassured her.

"Oh shit! I just remembered, it's Christmas! How could I forget?" Jenna said in surprise, looking at the décor everywhere.

"Actually, that reminds me," Frost added, taking the package from earlier out of his backpack and handing it to her. "This is for you. Feliz Navidad. Sorry about the suckish wrapping. I'm no good at this."

Jenna looked up at Frost for a moment before beginning to open it.

It was a patch. It resembled the shape of a shield with a set of white and blue wings on it, the emblem of the Recon Corps from _Attack on Titan._

"Sorry it sucks. I just knew you were into that, so I thought I might as well get this for you. Like a morale patch," Frost apologized.

"No, no! This is so cool! I'll wear it on our next op! Thanks so much, Fro- um, Derek!"

Frost smiled slightly before averting his eyes.

"No problem. Glad you like it."

"How come I don't get a present?" Grinch piped up.

"Shut the fuck up Grinch, you're not getting shit from me! I just let you borrow all my goddamn chips and you lost them! I told you not to try one more time and now I lost all of my budget for this trip! Head ass."

Grinch got up and started walking away.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to the room. I'll order us some hookers or something."

"No- Grinch! Fuck!"

* * *

><p>The remaining four returned to the rooms to find Grinch chilling out in the hallway and eating a bag of ice from the ice machine.<p>

"Hey Frost, I'm eating your brothers and sisters!" he teased. "I think we should hang in their room. It's got a better view."

Frost and Jenna proceeded in first (after more trouble with the key card) and Frost flicked on the lights.

"Ugh. So tired," he said, shuffling in.

All of a sudden, Grinch stopped the two before pointing above them.

"Look."

A rocket launcher was suspended from the ceiling by a bunch of duct tape. A familiar branch was taped to the weapon.

"Missile TOW. Wow," Frost remarked before remembering Jenna next to him. "Oh shit…"

Jenna blushed grabbed her arm, and began to breathe a bit heavily.

"D-Derek…? D-Do w-we…? Uh," she stuttered nervously.

Frost shrugged.

Jenna squeezed her eyes tight. She decided now was a better time than never.

"DEREK! I LOVE YOU! ALL RIGHT? I'VE HAD A CRUSH ON YOU FOR SO LONG! PLEASE DON'T BE MEAN WHEN YOU REJECT ME, I KNOW I'M NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" she confessed.

Frost suddenly pulled her up into a kiss. He passionately pressed his lips against hers, relishing the moment.

"Jenna, you fucking dumbshit. I, uhh, well, uh…" he trailed off, his usual demeanor fading away. He became his awkward self again, the one who was turned down 19 times by assorted women. "You can already tell," he finished, pulling Jenna into a warm hug.

The two stood hugging each other for about a minute until Grinch had to run his mouth.

"Well, you two have fun! We're leaving. Glad Mister Grinch could ruin yet another Christmas," he grinned, tossing a small cellophane-wrapped object on the bed. "You two have fun. And Frost, use that."

You can guess what that thing was.

Jenna gave Frost an evil smile before reaching down to unzip his pants.

* * *

><p><strong>What was that? Someone say SHIP!? Ehehehe… sorry, I had to write that. It was too fun to pass up. Plus, you don't get enough Jenna X Frost in the normal fic, so I thought I'd give you some here. Anyway, up next is Christmas with the Rangers – in yet another AU. Hope you enjoyed that. Now it's time for you Jenna X James shippers to go wild.<strong>

* * *

><p>Pvt. James Ramirez yawned and scratched his thigh as he shuffled away from his tent. Another Christmas in Afghanistan, and another Christmas away from home.<p>

"It's really cold," he announced to no one in particular. And it was true! Afghan winter sucked so much. No matter how many shemaghs he wore, poor James always got the sniffles.

Someone was playing holiday music over a loudspeaker for some reason. And of course, the song "I'll Be Home for Christmas" would be playing.

Ramirez frowned upon hearing it.

"SON OF A-!"

_I'll Be Home for Christmas_

_December 25_

_75__th__ Rangers Regiment, 1__st__ Bt. _

_Firebase Phoenix_

Bad choices of music aside, the entire base was covered in a sarcastic "screw this" kind of holiday cheer. The targets in The Pit were either replaced with Christmas trees, or donned Santa hats. The Humvees had makeshift antlers made from dry branches crudely duct-taped to them, and the lead vehicle on convoys always had a red dot painted on its front. Rangers would inadvertently embark on routine patrols with ornaments attached to their MOLLE vests. And lights adorned everything from tents to the reactive armor on the Strykers.

Ramirez greeted his new girlfriend, PFC. Jenna Moore. The two were friends since the first time the medic stepped on the same base, so long ago. He'd only confessed recently, but she accepted almost immediately.

* * *

><p><em>The two were standing on top of what had to be the most impor<em>_tant building in the US, the White House. They just managed to stop the Air Force from bombing the city as a failsafe._

_Ramirez used a random rag to dry off his very sweaty head as he surveyed the landscape. Green flares burned on various buildings dotting the city. It was almost like the Fourth of July out there, minus angry Russian soldiers everywhere._

_"So when are we goin' to Moscow?" a Ranger inquired, adjusting his vest._

_"Not soon enough, man. But I know we're gonna burn it down when we get there," Dunn grunted, anger present in his voice._

_Ramirez knew Dunn well, and he saw the fire in his eyes as he imagined the Russian capital ablaze._

_"When the time's right, Corporal, when the time's right," Foley replied calmly._

_Ramirez liked that about Foley. How chill he was, at least, when he wasn't constantly yelling his name._

_"When's that?" Jenna randomly blurted._

"_Dammit, now's a better time than ever!" Ramirez whispered to himself as he gulped and stepped toward the brunette._

_He pulled Jenna to himself and pressed his lips against hers passionately, getting a nice view of her wide hazel eyes. He quickly squeezed his eyes shut before it overwhelmed him. He thought those eyes were the cutest he'd seen. Kind of reminded him of anime moe girls, actually. Unconsciously he embraced the 19-year old with all his might. Once he realized what was happening, he stepped back and in a display of bad civilian habits, shoved his hands into his ACU pockets. He shamefully averted his eyes, missing Jenna's intense blush._

_"…James?" she murmured._

_"I-I'm sorry. I've been wanting to confess for a while, I thought this was a perfect time. Jenna. I love you," James admitted._

_To his surprise, she gave him her signature bright-eyed smile. A smile that always lit up his day, even though his job was to kill and not be killed. This time, it was a tearful one, too, but the tears were definitely happy, at least._

_Jenna rested her head on his shoulder, hugging her friend back._

"_Same here. I was hoping for the day you'd say that."_

* * *

><p>"Hey, Jenna," he said, grinning. He was always so happy to see her. She was pretty much the only person who really mattered to him anymore in this god-forsaken hellhole.<p>

"Ramirez, I think I know what I wanted for Christmas this year. More like _who," _Jenna giggled.

"You gotta stop calling me that! You know my name's James!"

"I'm just teasing you! Damn, you're so silly sometimes! How are we even friends?"

"Don't joke about that."

The two had an… interesting relationship, to say the least. Usually, the medic (dubbed "base whore," "walking mattress," and "squad hooker") would get frisky with anyone else by now, but for some reason it was different here. The other Rangers would make bets on when they'd get laid, and so far, a good half of the battalion already lost.

Jenna reasoned that it was because she really was dedicated this time. Because she actually cared this time. And James felt like he had no reason at all to doubt her at all. She was clumsily honest and sucked at keeping secrets, unless said secrets would get her in trouble. Typical of a delinquent type like her.

"So, uh, see you later? Foley's having me run The Pit today after what happened yesterday. Because _someone_ thought it was a good idea to spray a pot leaf and _4/20 BLAZE IT _on that Humvee," Ramirez indignantly whined.

"H-hey! They were giving you so much shit for being part Latino! Those hicks had it coming, too! Don't act like I'm not in trouble for beating them up, either! Sorry for dragging you along," Jenna apologized.

"Whatever. Love you, Jen," Ramirez smiled, walking away with a salute.

Jenna continued her own way.

"Love you too, James. And if the rednecks here mess with you again, give 'em one in the jaw and say Doc prescribed it. I promise I'll show up."

* * *

><p>The Ranger panted after sprinting to the finish of the obstacle course for the fifth time. Coughing, he flicked the safety of his SCAR-H back on as he stumbled over to Cpl. Dunn.<p>

"Ramirez, Ramirez. Nice job whacking that civvie with your muzzle. You chipped the paint on that SCAR," he chuckled, releasing and inserting the mag on his Desert Eagle repeatedly. "This time, try running the M4A1. I know you're not a fan of it but it's much better for close quarters than your battle rifle. And ditch the M9. We got a shipment of those USPs-, erm, HK45s for a reason. Totally not because SOCOM got bored with them."

James smiled as he switched out his weapons and loaded some magazines. Dunn had a habit of bitching and moaning about higher-tier units pretty often.

He slipped the last mag into his plate carrier and readied his carbine. The Rangers on deployment here had recently upgraded their gear thanks to a generous donation from Col. Marshall. Now Ramirez had some new Magpul PMAGs with the Magpul Mag Assists attached to them.

_So many 'mags' in that sentence, _he thought to himself.

The weapon itself also was pimped out. An EOTech 553 holographic sight rested on top in conjunction with a magnifier for longer ranges. And the stock was switched out for a Magpul CTR stock, which looked so much cooler for some reason.

_Is Magpul sponsoring the Rangers or something? I ain't complaining._

After running the course, Dunn decided that he was satisfied and let Ramirez off early against Foley's orders.

James cleared his M4A1 and let it hang as he pulled himself up the stairs and out of The Pit.

Passing the "Pimp Your Humvee" area, he searched for Jenna at the medical tent where she'd usually be.

"Hey! Jenna, you in here?" he asked, raising his voice.

An irritated patient growled at him.

"Ramirez. She ain't here. Some of my friends had business with her and asked for a word."

"S-seriously!?" Ramirez snapped. It was one of the people from the day before, who Jenna beat up. "All right, you're going to tell me where she is before you and I reenact the Alamo in reverse."

And soon enough, five men showed up with Confederate morale patches on their ACU sleeves. They blocked the entrance.

"This is oddly interesting… I thought this was 2016. And that we were a bit more civilized at this point," Ramirez grunted as he slowly backed away.

They continued towards him, some gripping knives, others with their handguns, and one with a rope.

He tried to shoulder his carbine but they had their guns pointed at him. He raised his hands in the air.

"This isn't 2014, guys," he added. "Or the 1950s either."

"You're coming," one of them ordered.

A slim figure appeared behind them. The person had a familiar short shag of messy brown on their head. They threw their carbon fiber-knuckled Oakley assault gloves to the ground, slipping a set brass knuckles onto their right fist.

"Try me, inbred," James threatened.

The one in the back didn't see it coming at all. He felt the rope slip from his hand, tighten around his neck, and then pull on his throat. The last thing he sensed before being knocked out was his cranium forcefully colliding with the ground as he simultaneously kissed a female size 6 boot.

The group turned around before finding a very pissed-off teenaged soldier glaring at them.

"Shit. It's the bitch."

Jenna gritted her teeth as she flew towards the first guy with a gun. She slapped the M9 to her right using her left hand and made an indent in his skull with the brass knuckles on her right. She then caught his limp figure and shoved it at the other firearm-wielding man, taking him down.

She then caught his pistol and whipped one of the knife guys in the head, catching the knife, and pointing it straight at the other's throat.

"Bad move," she scolded.

He suddenly dropped backwards, falling to the ground and kicking the girl forcefully in the shin. She dropped in pain, clutching her leg as the assailant slashed his bayonet across the length of her arm. A nasty red gash formed while he prepared to plunge the blade into her…

Someone suddenly tackled him to the ground. It wasn't Ramirez. He was too busy quivering in shock.

A familiar dark-skinned hand formed a thumbs-up.

"Foley!" Jenna and James both said at once.

"You two all right? No, not at all. I'll handle these guys, Ramirez, go help Moore with that," he ordered, moving his head near the subdued man's ear saying something before decreasing to a whisper. "Huh. Fucked up by a nigg-…"

James immediately patched up Jenna's arm at once, following her instructions. When it was done, he took out a Sharpie and scribbled "Merry Christmas" on the bandages, laughing a bit.

"You sure you're okay… dear?" he asked concernedly.

Jenna suddenly put her arms around his neck, bringing his face close down to hers.

"You're here. And you're safe. All that matters to me, baby."

And James knew that she wasn't good at fighting people with blades at all. He knew that she cared enough to get hurt just to protect him. It was all he needed to be able to survive the rest of the deployment.

"Y-you know w-what _I _wanted for Christmas?" he stuttered. "I haven't bought a ring yet, but…"

* * *

><p><strong>HAHAHAHAHHA! DEAL WITH IT! As you can tell, James X Jenna is a much different, much less… naughty ship than Frost and Jenna. Much cuter. I couldn't take it as I wrote this, actually. Anyway, uh, onto the next thing. Natalia's gotten together with Peter, but their relationship might be going a bit… south this holiday season. Away from the North Pole, I'd guess. Ha, funny joke.<br>**

* * *

><p><em>Russian Winter<em>

_December 24, 2016_

_VDV Spetsnaz_

_Russia_

Cpl. Natalia Petrova came home a changed person. She left as an 17-year-old naïve young girl and came back a year or two later as a psychologically-destroyed shell of a woman, with too much mental weight to carry.

She would have nightmares every time she went to sleep. She couldn't force the horrific images from the war from her thoughts, no matter what. Her military colleagues had to constantly make sure she had nothing she could use as a weapon in fear that she would commit suicide.

One day, she finally got hold of an old Cold War Makarov pistol. She despised it, mainly because it shared its name with the piece of shit who started the entire war in the first place.

Her comrade and former enemy Peter Chernenko found it pressed to her skull, her own finger on the trigger.

"N-Natalie? Please, don't do that. Whatever you do, please. Listen, I know you've seen a lot out there. I have too, trust me. I don't want you to die. I-, oh fuck it. I know I was an asshole back in training, please, let's put it behind us. I care so much more about you now. I love you, Natalia."

His sudden statement shocked her enough that she slowly lowered the weapon, then dropped it on the ground. She slouched, clenching her fists as tears streamed down her face as Peter came over to comfort her.

"Don't ever do that again. Don't do that to me."

* * *

><p>Some time later, Christmas was rolling around, and the two established a relationship. It was slow and kind of awkward, but they were making progress.<p>

But it seemed like every day, Peter was taking less interest in Natalia. But all that really mattered to her was someone to be there, to stop her from going over the edge. And Peter was that anchor she needed.

"Y-you think we'd be able to go out on a date today? It's Christmas," she timidly asked, clasping and unclasping her fingers. For some reason, she felt kind of shy when it came to relationships.

"Maybe, maybe," Peter considered. "Anyway, I'm going out… Christmas shopping. You take care of yourself. Can you do that for me?"

Natalia nodded, somewhat disappointed. She wondered what he would be doing, but she trusted that he was being honest.

She collapsed onto the couch and turned on her TV. She occupied this tiny apartment, but Peter didn't live with her. He only stopped by. For a couple, they were a bit... separated.

Of course, she had to turn to the news. News on the aftermath of the war.

_The war._

"The President of the United States has issued a pardon to two previous internationally wanted men, one posthumously," the anchor began. "Their names were John Price and John MacTavish. Both were part of a secret international special operations group known as Task Force 141."

Natalia paid attention. She knew who these people were.

"Task Force 141 was disavowed after the killing of US General Hershel von Shepherd III, a corrupt officer who made a deal with infamous terrorist Vladimir Makarov, one which started the war."

She started hyperventilating, clutching her chest and struggling not to think about her terrible memories. She barely could focus on what was being said anymore.

"A US CIA agent was inserted into the infamous Zakhaev Airport Massacre. He was executed. His body was discovered by authorities and linked back to the US, implicating their involvement."

What the media didn't know was that the military was already going to invade anyway. How else did they mobilize so quickly? They only needed a reason for it. This Shepherd man must have known it.

Natalia blamed it on Makarov but knew that in the end the real blame rested on corrupt military officials – on both sides.

She couldn't take it anymore. She screamed, turning the screen off and bursting into tears. She sobbed into her hands as the images burnt into her mind revealed themselves.

Dead, young men and women like herself. Their blood staining foreign soil, having died fighting a war they couldn't have won. Civilians being preyed upon by people exerting their power. Her own comrades killing American civilians. Protecting a Pakistani airport from Makarov's men. Genocide in Africa at the hands of evil militias.

She began to hit her head against the wall. 18 years old and already diagnosed with PTSD despite being drafted at 17.

Peter wasn't there this time. She violently surveyed the living space for something she could try to kill herself with. She could barely restrain herself at this point.

Natalia couldn't find anything at all. She silently pressed her head onto the cushions, begging for it to stop.

* * *

><p>Peter downed another shot of vodka as he chatted with the guys at the bar.<p>

"And… I felt bad for her, y'know? Like, I've seen just as much shit as her. The thing is, I can't really look at her the same anymore. So different than the girl I loved at first. I just drown it in booze, like the rest of you loser bastards. She refuses," he explained. "So I keep pretending I'm her boyfriend. That she's my girlfriend. I can't grow the balls to leave her, though. But I want to, before the two of us get nasty or something and I leave her behind and in a mess. I feel like I'm the only thing she's got left."

A slightly older man, about 25, piped up.

"Chernenko. I think I can help with that."

Peter suddenly widened his eyes.

"Koslov! Sir?"

"That's right. I frequent this place often. You never notice. You know exactly why."

_That's right. He's GRU Spetsnaz._

"Here's what I'm thinking. Think of it as kind of a Christmas present for her. We'll make it seem like you cheated on her or something of the sort. I'll handle the rest, I know exactly how to keep her from ending it afterwards."

* * *

><p>The plan was in motion. Peter went out and hired a cheap prostitute and purposely suspiciously tried to cover it up. He purposefully did a bad job of keeping down his messed-up hair and sloppily flipping up his collar.<p>

To make things even more incriminating, he kept her number in his pocket and texted back blatant lies when Natalia asked him what was happening.

He opened the door to the apartment and discovered her waiting at the table patiently for him.

She suddenly got up and hugged him before looking into his eyes pleadingly.

"I'm so happy you're home. Please, don't go out that long again. I missed you," she admitted, burying her face in his chest. "W-where were you?"

"Uh, I was shopping, remember?"

"Why don't you have anything then?"

"Uhh…"

It was coming together now.

Natalia noticed his hair and her smile slightly wavered.

_Weird, _she reasoned. _Looks like it got messed up. Maybe he got in a scuffle?_

She brought him closer.

"How about we go to the bedroom, perhaps?" she suggested. She just wanted close contact with _someone._

Then she spotted the, uh, marks on his neck and going down his chest.

She stepped back a second, desperate denial on her face.

"Don't tell me…"

She reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small piece of scratch paper with a phone number on it.

"No…"

"It's not what you think!" Peter lied.

Natalia began to cry again before descending into a state of bloodthirsty violence.

She grabbed Chernenko by the shirt and shoved him outside of the door, pressing him against the wall outside.

"You cheating bastard," she growled.

She tried to restrain herself the best she could. She couldn't kill someone who wasn't the enemy, much less her boyfriend. Usually at this point the body count was rising.

Natalia reluctantly let go of his shirt and looked at the ground.

"Leave. Get out of my life. I hope you're happy."

* * *

><p>Natalia was out on the balcony, feeling the brutal sting of the cold. She slipped the last cigarette out of her pack, her hands trembling as she lit it.<p>

As she inhaled the acid, toxic fumes, she contemplated what she was going to do next.

Making up her mind, she tossed it on the ground before stamping it out.

She approached the railing, ready to step up, when…

"PETROVA!"

She whipped around to find her CO, Sgt. Pavel Ivanovich Koslov panting.

"DON'T!" he screamed before coming up and pulling her back inside.

"Why?" she quietly protested.

"I care about my soldiers, you're no exception. In fact, I care about you more than the rest," Koslov grunted.

"What?"

"I picked you for a reason. At first, just because I knew what you were capable of. But after getting to know you, fighting alongside you…"

Natalia couldn't believe it. Was this…?

"…I began to realize I might have been in love with you. I, uh, haven't really experienced that kind of thing during my few years as an adult. I'm not that old, only seven years older than you. I was your age fighting in the Second Civil War. Anyway," he continued, kissing her hand. "I order you to take point. _Natalia."_

She placed her hands over her mouth before looking downwards. She couldn't look him in the eyes. She'd just gotten rid of Chernenko… now, this?

"Yes sir," she quietly responded before hugging him.

Koslov looked at the ceiling as he allowed her to do what she was doing. He never knew that he'd ever have the chance, being kind of a distant figure. He was her superior, not her colleague.

"Would you like to, uhh…" Natalia whimpered submissively.

Pavlov raised an eyebrow. Why the hell not?

* * *

><p><strong>Oh my… this entire thing was a ride. Especially that last one. Natalia is a total mess when it comes to relationships. She's much less… straightforward than Jenna, that's for sure. I thought some shipping involving her was needed, here you go. Doesn't seem like she's shipped much, and I hope you ship her with certain people <strong>_**now. **_

**Anyway, Merry Christmas, happy holidays! Hope you enjoyed! Have a happy new year and let's hope no new wars start, shall we?**


End file.
